You Can Have Chemistry In Chem, but Please Don't Have Biology in Bio!
by SinsofMidnight
Summary: Full Title: You Can Have Chemistry In Chemistry, but Please Don't Have Biology in Biology! Ichigo has a crush on his classmate. His classmate happens to have a few questions about biology that Ichigo offers to lend a hand with... Rated M for delinquent! Ichigo and manipulative! Uryū :)
1. Chapter 1

_I hope I'm not being a terrible tease by posting such a short opening, but I can promise I am hard at work on the rest of this!_

* * *

**You Can Have Chemistry in Chemistry, But Please Don't Have Biology in Biology**

_**Fandom:**_ _Bleach_

_**Teaser:**_ "_Uryū Ishida, class president and top-ranked student, had become a bit of a fascination of mine. He was utterly beautiful with silky black hair and midnight blue eyes, but he was completely set apart from the rest of the student body. It was as though there was an invisible wall between him and the other students."_

_**Inspiration:**_ _This was a request from Cutegirly19.  
The title, however, comes from my senior year of high school (god, I feel old!) when my sister, worried about how flirty I was in Chemistry class declared, "You can have chemistry in Chemistry, but please don't have biology in Biology."_

_**Rating: **__M_

_**Warnings:  
**__- Delinquent behavior  
-Casual Smoking  
-Casual drug references (but no use)  
-Innocence  
-Acting  
-High school kids  
-Hormones  
-Piercings_

_**Main Pairing: **__Ichigo Kurosaki/Uryū Ishida_

_**Minor Pairings:  
**__-…None so far, but these things do happen…_

_**Setting: **__AU! High school setting (which isn't so different from part of the real thing :P)_

_**POV:**_ _Ichigo, since he's fun… maybe Uryū, since he's important, too… First person perspective._

_**Summary:**_ _Ichigo has a crush on his classmate. His classmate happens to have a few questions about biology that Ichigo offers to lend a hand with...  
_

_**Additional ANs:**_ _She requested this around January… I got distracted by my shiny in-progress stories that demanded my attention and the fanfictions in desperate need of a strong hand and a red pen… My own novel-in-progress yanked me away from those, as well…  
So, my new friend, I hope you enjoy my madness and the story 3_

* * *

_Ichigo:_

The breeze felt pleasant against my bare arms as I surveyed the school campus from the vantage point of the rooftop. A silly grin graced my lips and I released a sigh of happiness. I loved the way everything felt so far away from up here.

I patted my pockets until I found the familiar rectangular shape. My silly smile became a wide grin as I extracted the familiar silver case. A chuckle escaped my lips as I pressed the release button and the case opened. rumor had it that I carried marijuana or any other assortment of drugs inside it, but truthfully, all I carried in the case were Newport 100s and my black lighter. Some of my friends tended to assume I smoked Mavericks or some other cheap brand, but my preference in cigarettes was one of the only things that had passed from my father to me.

I pulled one of the long cigarettes from the case and placed the tan filter between my lips. Flicking the lighter open with a _snap_, I lit my cigarette and took a long drag.

Morning classes had been stressful, and I'd been needing this cigarette since the first five minutes of my AP English class. The teacher was an utter _bitch_, but I continued to take the AP course for three reasons: one, the class was great college prep; two, I'd had to fight tooth and nail to prove I belonged there in the first place; and three, there was one beautiful, serious boy that sat beside me and I found him absolutely engrossing.

Uryū Ishida, class president and top-ranked student, had become a bit of a fascination of mine. He was utterly _beautiful_ with silky black hair and midnight blue eyes, but he was completely set apart from the rest of the student body. It was as though there was an invisible wall between him and the other students. He was never bullied, never more than casually attached to any other student, never close to any of his classmates. I could see no reason _why_ he wouldn't fit in –honestly, class elections were more of a popularity contest than a matter of qualifications and he had been elected. He was well-liked by other students, but he never made any effort to get closer to any of them.

I finished my cigarette and absently stubbed out the cherry. Taking a moment to check my cell phone, I smiled as I realized that I still had close to twenty minutes left in my lunch period. It was unlikely that I would be disturbed on the rooftop. Most people tended to eat with their friends or play games or neck with their significant other at lunch time. Very few of us wanted the solitude the rooftop could afford us, which was _why_ the rooftop was my sanctuary.

Relaxing a bit, I sat down and leaned against the cool stone that kept me from the edge. I squinted when the sunlight nearly blinded me in this new position, then simply closed my eyes. Relaxing a little would do me good and prepare me to face the rest of my classes.

I had a few minutes of blissful, relaxing silence before I heard the roof-access door creak open. Opening only one eye, I gazed upon the exquisite beauty that had fascinated me in the moment that he exhaled a soft startled sound.

"I… I'm sorry. I wasn't aware someone was up here," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Class President," I greeted. "If you're seeking solitude, I won't disturb you. I just want a few moments to myself, as well."

He nodded to me. "Very well. Thank you."

I smiled and inclined my head for a moment before sitting up and reaching for my cigarette case once more. "Do you mind if I smoke?" I inquired.

"Those things will kill you one day," he responded. "Just make sure your smoke goes another direction, yeah?"'

My smile became a grin once more. "Can do, Class President."

Imagine that. I never thought I'd be smoking a cigarette on the rooftop with the class president not much more than an arm's length away.

* * *

_When Cutegirly and I discussed this request, I probably didn't stress how much I enjoy the delinquent side of Ichigo . _

_With the way I'm writing this, it's kinda like a yaoi-manga cliche, but I promise I will twist it in a more... interesting fashion :P_

_Let me know how you like it?_

_~Sins~_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, my doves, and welcome to chapter 2! _

_It's actually quite rare for me to update a story so quickly, so it's a blessing~_

_One of my reviewers (PS, both of you should expect a reply in your inbox :)) ) remarked on a lack of delinquency on Ichigo's part... Hopefully, this chapter might add a bit in that respect.._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Uryū:_

King of the Delinquents Ichigo Kurosaki was surprisingly true to his word. He smoked his cigarette in silence and managed to keep the smoke from coming my way. In fact. He didn't make any attempt to distract me at all. Which was why it was really too bad that he distracted me by merely _existing_ in the vivid way that he did.

At first, he'd been an arbitrary interest of mine. It had all started only a few years ago, after English class one day when I overheard his friend Mizuiro jokingly ask Ichigo if he'd made honor-roll again. it had seemed like a joke to me. I mean, the student that earned the title 'King' an honor-roll student? It was ridiculous to even contemplate!

Weirder still had been the fact that he was in my AP English course. I could tell that he absolutely _hated_ the teacher, but he had stuck it out and she (grudgingly) passed him based on his merits and his hard work. It seemed completely preposterous, really. What delinquent worried so much over his grades or the way his high school transcripts appeared to a college? To my shock, apparently Ichigo Kurosaki _did_.

That was the first time I'd looked at the tall boy with orange-ish hair and whiskey-colored eyes and thought, _There's something about him that I can't quite put my finger on or explain away._

And so the King of the Delinquents became the favorite puzzle of the class president.

It sounded like a bad storyline from one of the mangas that my friend Rukia seemed to devour. It wasn't like I was in love with him. He just… intrigued me, because he was an enigma that was at odds with itself.

Delinquents by definition were unmotivated in the classroom, but his grades rivaled my own! He skipped classes, but only electives. He already had more than enough credits to graduate and was only hanging around to finish up a few required courses.

What made him a delinquent was his penchant for making up his own rules and taking up the cause of justice –sometimes for himself but mostly for others– with his fists. After all, that _was_ how he'd earned his title.

According to most, that made him an unsuitable companion for the class president –though I'd heard the phrase "class idol" whispered several times in connection with my name. It was ironic that he was the only one of my classmates that I had any interest in.

"I know I said I wouldn't distract you, Class President, but do you mind a class-related question?" that warm voice asked.

I blinked and looked up at him. "Of course not."

He took a deep breath. "Do you get the poetry assignment? I mean, I like Shakespeare's poetry as much as the next guy, but I have no idea how to write a sonnet."

"They're difficult, to say the least. I've started at least three, but I always run out of steam at the second half of it," I admitted.

His smile was almost blinding in its brightness. "It helps to know I'm not the only one struggling. I'm having trouble coming up with a good topic."

"Try something that fascinates you," I blurted. It took me a second to get my mouth and my brain back on the same page to finish the thought. "The more interest you have in a subject, the less likely you should be to run out of steam like I have been." The last half of my statement was punctuated with a wry smile.

The smile that appeared on his lips was slower, sweeter. It made butterflies dance in my stomach. "Thank you. I think I have the perfect idea now."

I couldn't help but smile back. "You're welcome. Glad I could help."

Silence reigned for a few heart-pounding moments as we looked at each other. I imagine to anyone else, it would have been a study of contrasts. He was fairer haired, and his sun-kissed skin stretched over well-defined muscles that made me envious. I was slenderer and darker haired, with a practically ghostly pallor and an almost girlish figure. Yet in that moment, what I felt was an odd sense of camaraderie with someone I'd never bothered to get to know before.

The shrill bell was loud and startling.

"Well, that's the end of lunch. I'll see you around, Class President," he told me with a half-smile and a mock salute.

"Uryū," I corrected.

"Huh?"

"My name isn't 'Class President'. It's Uryū, and I fear it will rust if no one but the teachers dare to use it," I informed him with a sardonic smile of my own.

For some reason, that brought another soft smile out of him. "Uryū, then. You can use my first name, too, you know. I know you know it," he prodded mischievously.

"What, afraid that everyone remembers your title and not you, _King_?" I inquired teasingly.

"A title implies you have a place on a pedestal somewhere that you have to get back to. A name is an intimacy."

Ah, a budding philosopher was the reigning King. How interesting. "I agree. Ichigo."

With one more smile in his direction, I headed back downstairs, knowing I had a limited amount of time to get to Chemistry and that my teacher was likely to volunteer me for one of his own experiments if I was late. Yet that silly little smile wouldn't leave my lips.

* * *

_Hope that was worth it..._

_Anyone care to hazard a guess as to who the Chem teacher is? You have three guesses -the first two don't count :P_

_How do you find my perspective on dear, dear Uryū? Leave a review and let me know, please!_

_Ever at your pleasure,_

~Sins~


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello, my doves._

_I apologize for taking so long to churn this out for you... I just got really wrapped up in another of my works-in-progress, and I barely spared a thought for this delicious little story..._

_To make up for that, I hope to have another chapter to post for you tomorrow, but I shan't promise anything..._

_Anyway! On with the show :)_

* * *

_Ichigo:_

The school week had drug on a few more days –it was Wednesday now– yet I was in a surprisingly good mood. Unfortunately for me, my friends weren't exactly _oblivious_ to my lifted spirits, and it was only a matter of time until assumptions and rumors would be made.

"Hey, King. What's got you so happy? Is there some new gorgeous girl in your life?" my friend Keigo asked.

Now, in all honestly, Keigo was a good friend. We'd been friends for a long time, and he was one of the few that had stuck with me since elementary school. Regrettably for all of us, Keigo was the worst kind of gossip-monger. So since I preferred to not have the whole school aware of my gender preference _or_ my infatuation with the class president, I glowered at him. "What gives, Keigo? I can't just be in a good mood?"

He shook his head. "Not you, Ichigo. You don't normally _have_ moods: you just have one, and it's usually angry."

I fought the urge to rub the back of my neck. He did have a point: that was the only mood anyone ever saw from me at school. "Fine," I relented. "I like someone, and they are kind of… out of my league. But they talked to me."

Keigo's expression immediately changed into some-sort of awestruck expression. "Aw!" he exclaimed. "Ichi, you're so innocent it's adorable!"

I raised my brows at him. "I'm not near as innocent as you think, Keigo. Trust me."

Of course, there was no way in hell I was telling _Keigo_ about things I had gotten up to with another of his close friends. Renji might take it all in stride, or he just might take that sword he loved so much and impale me on it if the whole school found out about _that_.

Although, our fencing instructor _did_ insist that a sword existed to be bathed in the blood of our enemies. However, Mr. Zaraki was far from all there. He was a brilliant swordsman, but that didn't make him sane.

Either way, I could hardly correct Keigo when he looked at me and scoffed. "Yeah, right, Ichi. I've never seen you even _look_ at a girl."

It took every ounce of strength in me to keep from saying, _That's because I'm _gay_, you moron._

"So who is your mystery chick?"

"Someone who will remain a mystery, Keigo," I returned, glaring at him. "Someone who doesn't usually associate with the likes of me, that's for damn sure."

If Keigo realized that I never specified a gender, he didn't let on. "Psh. All the girls in the school know it's an honor to go with the King. Well, unless they're into that bespectacled class president," he said with a cruel curl to his lips.

"Hey. I happen to think he's a nice guy, so cool it, Keigo," I growled at him.

_Yeah. Not gonna get that answer you want out of me if you inadvertently insult the person I like, Keigo, _I chastised him in my mind.

Considering how long he had known me, he knew _exactly_ what that tone meant. So he backpedaled –fast! "I-I just mean that you are two completely different types of people. He's smart, introverted, unapproachable…"

"Yeah, I can see what all we _don't_ have in common now, Keigo." I returned wryly.

"He's a wimp!" Keigo protested.

"Have you ever seen him at the archery range, Keigo? That boy can outshoot all the adults that visit." I worked at the archery range part time and I'd never seen _anyone_ who could outshoot Uyrū Ishida.

Mizuiro slapped his hand over Keigo's open mouth. "Don't mind him, Ichigo. He hasn't realized he's digging his own grave with his tongue yet," he informed me pleasantly. "How are you today, Ichigo?"

"Well, I _was_ in a good mood until this _moron_ decided to interrogate me," I told him.

"Oh, please don't let him spoil your mood. He's an idiot."

Keigo was now trying to bite the hand over his mouth, since Mizuiro had called him an idiot.

"Well, I suppose I can't be in a good mood all week," I told Mizuiro, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.

"He likes someone!" Keigo declared from behind Mizuiro's hand. It was muffled, naturally, but this was a frequent enough occurrence that I could interpret his garbled speech.

"What was that?"

"He said, 'He likes someone'," I told Mizuiro, "and he's right. I _do_ like someone, but I won't tell Keigo who."

Mizuiro suddenly shoved Keigo toward Tatsuki. "Here. Take him out and beat him or something," he told her vaguely.

Now, Tatsuki wasn't one for taking anyone's instructions usually. Unluckily for Keigo, however, she had been itching to beat him up ever since he'd called her a bitchy lesbian a few weeks ago. So instead of telling Mizuiro to fuck off, she took it all in stride and drug Keigo out the door.

"So, who is this mystery person, and does it have anything to do with why you were chewing Keigo out for talking shit about the class president?" Mizuiru asked now that the hallway was empty but for us.

_Well, shit,_ I thought, wanting to shake my head.

"Am I really that obvious?" I asked Mizuiro.

"To someone who doesn't know you well? Not at all. To someone who's known you since elementary school and has half a brain? Extremely."

The good news was, at least I could trust Mizuiro to keep it to himself. He certainly knew what things were to remain between friends. "How long have you known?" I asked him.

"How long have I known what?"

"That I'm gay."

He choked, but recovered quickly. "I had figured bi, but since the first year Renji was here."

I gave him a wicked smile. "Oh, it took you that long? Renji wasn't my first, you know."

Then I walked away, leaving my friend to lean against a locker and attempt to catch his jaw.

* * *

_Yep, Ichigo is definitely affected by that Ishida boy... hmmm._

_So, anyone wanna know if Uryuu found his way out of denial? That's in the next chapter; I promise!_

_Next chapter teaser title: Let's Start A Rumor Just to Find Out How It Ends... :P_

_Tell me what you liked, what you hated... if you enjoyed that Tatsuki beat the snot out of Keigo... y'know, anything... but please review :)_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, my lovely doves!_

_I know that I have been posting pretty small chapters... Well, this one will include three separate sonnets (author and title are noted in text, as is convenient for me :P) but, as an apology, this chapter is over 2000 words, excluding the sonnets themselves :)_

_So! Onward I march! :)_

* * *

_Uryū:_

By the time fifth period English rolled around, five people had relayed one version of the rumor and another five had relayed different variations of the same story. I was sure there were some more risqué versions that no one dared bring to me, which was a shame: I figured I would enjoy the imagined relationship between Ichigo and myself.

Ichigo, who'd been in a rare good mood most of this week, walked into the classroom with a scowl on his face. I took it to mean that he'd heard the rumors, as well.

He spotted me and a smile pulled across his lips for a moment. My heart-beat mimicked the fastest arrows that I had ever released from my bow.

_Oh, you've got it bad,_ I told myself wryly.

"Have you ever wished you could just send out a group email to correct a _stupid_ rumor?" he asked me, sliding into his assigned seat, which was the seat on the left side of mine.

I laughed. "All the time, but you know they would just twist that and make it worse." I cocked my head at him. "So, how much of it _is_ true?"

"That depends on which version of the rumor you heard, Uryū." His voice was a warm amused rumble.

Was it bad that butterflies began to play in my stomach when he said my name like that?

"I've heard around six different versions," I told him, shrugging. "All of them began the same way, pretty much. Someone was running his mouth and you defended the honor of the subject matter."

He winced. "That part's true. Keigo was running his mouth about… someone I'd like to think of as a friend, and I chewed him out for it."

I thought it was adorable, the way he danced around admitting that _I_ had been the person that his friend had been talking about. "What happened after that, Ichigo?" I inquired.

"Mizuiro distracted me and shoved Keigo at someone _else_ he had insulted in the last month. He told her to take Keigo out and beat him. For once in her life, Tatsuki did what she was told to." He winced. "I probably shouldn't have let it happen, but he _did_ call her a bitchy lesbian, so I thought her vengeance was fair enough."

"So why, then, is Mizuiro wandering around looking just as shell-shocked as Keigo?" I inquired.

A wide grin crossed his lips. "Oh, I just… informed him of something he should have guessed a long time ago."

Rukia always _had_ accused me of being a cat, since my curiosity frequently got the best of me. "What was that, may I ask?"

"You can ask, Uryū, but I don't have to answer," he informed me, something mischievous in the tone of his voice.

The bell rang, interrupting our conversation. I was more upset that I wanted to admit at losing my chance to wheedle the answer out of him. There was something about the way he had said it. It had seemed like something important. But I liked that he could tease me and dodge my probing questions.

_You _really_ have it bad._

It had come as a surprise at first when I had realized a few days ago that my fascination with him wasn't just a fascination. Despite the amount of trouble I'd had coping with it at first, I'd come to terms with it fairly easily. I mean, I could talk to him and see him five days a week. If it was nothing more than lust, it would die away. If it was that other 'l' word I didn't even want to think about… well, I'd have to cross that bridge as I came to it.

Miss Souma cleared her throat. "Alright, everyone. Settle down. We're going to start with our literature texts, so take them out and turn to page 352. We'll be continuing our unit on sonnets today by looking at three examples, one from each of the major types. Kurosaki, can you tell the class what the three types are?"

There she went, singling him out again. Ichigo was smart, and he'd already admitted a liking of Shakespeare. I wished Miss Souma could just accept that he wasn't an average delinquent, but she seemed stubborn to the notion.

"Petrarchan, which is the Italian school; Spenserian, named after Edmund Spenser; and Shakespearian, named after the Bard himself. Of course, the major difference between them is rhyme scheme and the presence or location of the _vuelta_." Ichigo's tone was very bored, like this was all very basic knowledge everyone should already have.

Miss Souma looked like she was going to choke. I supposed she hadn't expected him to be so knowledgeable on the subject already. "V-very good, Kurosaki. Thank you." she turned her attention to the rest of us. "Have you turned to the first poem already?" she nearly snapped, apparently off-kilter because Ichigo had surpassed her meager expectations of him.

Everyone in the class hurried to turn to the right page for fear of her rage. _"Sonnet 31"_, the heading read. The author was noted to be Sir Philip Sidney.

"Ishida, if you would be so kind, would you read the first poem aloud to the class?" Miss Souma inquired, suitably recovered.

In all honesty, I wanted to refuse it. I didn't want to become a spectacle in my class because I happened to know the correct way to read a sonnet. Turning my head, still wanting to turn it down, I caught Ichigo's eye. He looked at me and flashed me a small smile before mouthing _"Go ahead!"_. Suddenly, I found myself unable to refuse. "Of course," I found myself murmuring. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the text and began to read,

_"With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!  
How silently, and with how wan a face!  
What, may it be that even in heavenly place  
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?_

_"Sure, if thou long-with-love-acquainted eyes  
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case.  
I read it in thy looks, thy languished grace,  
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries._

_"Then even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me  
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?  
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?  
Do they above love to be loved, and yet  
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth posses?  
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?"_

The whole class stared at me as though I might have grown a third head –well, aside from Ichigo, who simply gave me an incredibly soft smile that made me feel like something about how I'd read it had touched his soul. Miss Souma simply seemed incredibly pleased with my reading.

"So! What can you tell me about this sonnet?" she inquired of the class.

"He's talking to the moon," one student piped up.

"Correct: this poem does address the moon. That's called _apostrophe_, which is a poetic devise where a poet speaks to a non-human entity. What else? Can anyone tell me who the 'busy archer' is?"

"Cupid." The answer was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "According to the ancient Roman myths, Cupid was the god of love. Whoever was pierced with his arrows would find love."

Ichigo's lips titled into a half smile once more.

"Correct, Ishida. Can anyone tell me what this poem _means_?"

"Would you like a full summary or stanza by stanza?" Ichigo asked suddenly.

"Whichever suits you, Kurosaki." She steepled her fingers and watching him expectantly.

"In the first quatrain, he greets the moon and asks if perhaps Cupid is the reason behind his wan appearance. In the second quatrain, he tries to place himself on the same level as the moon, observing that the moon is well-acquainted with lovers and that it can tell if love is truly that or lust. Then he states that they have the same emotions. The next two lines are the _vuelta_, where the poet begins to ask the moon questions on the basis of their similarities. Is constant love called a lack of intelligence where the moon is? Are the beautiful haughty and vain? Do they adore the feeling of being loved yet mock the ones that love them? '_Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?' _" he asked softly, quoting the last line of the poem verbatim without ever looking at the page.

I felt my heart squeeze in my chest as I registered the _pain_ in his voice as he quoted that line. Who had hurt him so much? I wanted to know –mostly because I wanted to shoot them full of arrows, and a little bit because I still wanted to know everything about him… alright, fifty percent to each, but still!

He took a deep breath before looking at Miss Souma again, who seemed startled to have heard that same pain in his voice. "The poem is about how society looked at lovers during the Romantic period. They gloried in the _idea_ of love, but called lovers fools."

All eyes were on him for a moment and I couldn't help but notice how much their stares unnerved him.

Clearing my throat, I added to the information. "The rhyme scheme is Petrarchen. It's divided into three stanzas: the first and second contain four lines each, but the last contains six lines."

Miss Souma looked back to me. "Thank you, Kurosaki, Ishida. Is there anything else that someone cares to add?"

"Yeah: when did King become an expert on sonnets?" Ikkaku asked.

"Shut up, Ikkaku," Yumichicka told him bluntly. "Asking such a question is totally unbeautiful."

* * *

_Ichigo:_

My addiction called out to be sated, so I found myself on the rooftop once more. Something inside of me hoped that Uryū would join me up here once more, but I knew the chances were slim. Monday had brought us a lot closer, certainly, but we had no standing lunch date, so I doubted he would seek me out.

Still, as I finished that first cigarette, I found myself recalling the way his voice had caressed each syllable of that sonnet. It had been utterly enthralling to listen to his smooth voice speak of love, sweet and alluring to watch his lips carefully form each word and measure each cadence.

Yet I was more enthralled with the way he'd looked to _me_ when he had wanted nothing more than to run from the classroom and the way _my _encouragement had helped him continue. Not to mention the way he had dashed to my own rescue after my analysis. He continued to draw out my increasingly bashful smile by simply _existing_ near me. And I liked that he was curious enough to ask about the rumors –I had heard some raunchier variations that would never reach his ears because the sycophants that treated him like a beautiful stature feared he was too _delicate_; yet I knew I had to be grateful to them, especially since some of those rumors were a little too close to things I dreamed of frequently enough– and curious enough to ask what had really happened.

There was something about everything about him that made me think about my favorite sonnet by Shakespeare.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes against the glaring noon sun, I recited the sonnet from memory:

_"When in the chronicle of wasted time  
I see description of the fairest weights,  
And beauty making beautiful old rhymes,  
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,  
Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best  
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,  
I see their antique pen would have express'd  
Even such a beauty as you master now.  
So all their praises are by prophecies  
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;  
And, for they look'd with divining eyes  
The had not skill enough your worth to sing:  
***For we, which now behold these present days,  
***Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise."_

"_That_ sonnet certainly isn't in our text," Uryū remarked dryly. "It's lovely. Who wrote it?"

My eyes flew open, yet I turned leisurely, as though finding him here didn't set my pulse racing like a fight did. "Shakespeare. It's Sonnet 106, a favorite of mine."

He smiled at me as he approached me and I about forgot my own name. _Damn_, he had a gorgeous smile! "It's certainly beautiful. Why is it your favorite?"

"My father used to recite it for my mother, and I always thought it was the purest expression of how he felt about her. My mother gave me a book of poetry when she noted my interest, but this one has always been my favorite of the sonnets. It makes me think of someone special to me." I smiled winsomely, but fought hard to keep the blush at bay and to keep myself from blurting out _'It makes me think of you'_. Admitting that, after how I'd just described the poem, would be just the same as confessing love to him.

"You said your father _used to_ recite it?"

"Yeah. Mom passed away when I was nine, and Dad has never spoken the words of that poem again." I shook my head and looked at him. "Are you surprised I have an interest in sonnets?"

"Not surprised by the interest, more… impressed by your knowledge of them. You seem well-informed on the topic." He smiled at me.

"If you're interested, I could loan you the book." I was surprised by my own offer, but it felt right to offer it to _him_.

"I _am_ interested, but it was a gift from your mother…"

"I have all of my favorites memorized," I interjected. "Someone else should turn those pages for a change, and I'd rather it be someone who would appreciate the sonnets."

He nodded slowly. "Then I would love to barrow it," he told me, as though he knew arguing with me after explicitly expressing interest in it would get him nowhere.

"I'll bring it tomorrow, then."

The silence that fell between us was comfortable, somehow.

"Can you recite another one?" he asked me softly.

"Huh? Why?" I asked, startled.

"You do them justice. There's a certain… _reverence_ in your tone, and you know the rhythm matters." He sounded far off.

"Alright," I consented softly. My eyes fluttered closed once more, and I began to recite:

_"Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove.  
O no! It is that ever-fix'd mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his weight be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
***If this be in error, and upon me proved,  
***I never writ, nor no man ever loved."_

"I love that one," he told me softly. "I like the notion of love that doesn't change, even if people do. Who wrote that one?"

"Shakespeare again. Sonnet 116." I couldn't help but smile, though my eyes remained closed. Was it not fate that caused us to bond over century-old love poems?

"I like how your voice sounds when you recite them. It's as though you feel every word of them."

The comment was soft, but I felt heat rush to my cheeks. I wondered if I recited them that way _because_ I felt every word in the density of my own soul. "Thank you," I told him.

"Thank you for defending me to Keigo this morning."

My eyes shot open, but I quickly tried to cover my shock. "No problem. He was out of line, anyway, and he knows better than to insult people I call 'friend'." I looked toward him, only to see some color in his cheeks.

"Are we friends?" he asked hesitantly.

"I would never have offered to loan you that book if we weren't, Uryū. You're stuck with me now." I gave him an impish grin.

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "Perhaps it is you that is stuck with me, Ichigo."

I set my hand on his arm. "Nope: _you_ are stuck with me. Ah, can you hear the rumors? 'King' and the Class President."

He groaned. "That's horrible. It sounds like some sort of cheesy story!"

I laughed. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from the rumors, Uryū. It's the least I can do for a friend."

His answering smile lit up his whole face and my heart as well. "I'll hold you to that."

* * *

_The sonnets are (in case you missed them):  
__-Sonnet 31 by Sir Philip Sidney  
-Sonnet 106 by William Shakespeare  
-Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare_

_I fell in love with sonnets my senior year of high school. I may have become a bit obsessed with them (I wrote a research paper and had to give an oral presentation on the material)... _

_The discussion in the text about Sonnet 31 mirrors the discussion we had in my English class over the same sonnet... though one student did not give the chunk answer that Ichigo did :P I would have been that student, if it had happened... :P_

_Keep in mind that poetry is open to interpretation, and unlike my English teacher in high school, I will not tell you there is a right way or a wrong way to respond to poetry :) _

_One more thing: on the Shakespearean sonnets, there are stars to keep the proper alignment of the lines, and for no other purpose. Just wanted them there as Shakespeare himself intended._

_Oh, and did anyone catch the teacher's name? A cookie to whoever can place her correctly -or maybe just a shout-out in the story!_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello, my doves._

_It's been a bit, hasn't it? Well, I hope that this chapter makes things worth while :) _

_Also, I did do some small edits on the previous chapters, mostly because I persistently spelled one name wrong... Another thing to keep in mind for later chapters: the book Ichigo will be loaning to Uryū is a book of _poetry_ and not a book of _sonnets_. :)_

_On with the show!_

* * *

_Uryū:_

Ichigo was annoyingly, obstinately… irrevocably _correct._

Only a single day after we put a name to our strange camaraderie, and the rumors were already flying like birds released from a cage. I heard most of them in periphery, if I were to be wholly honest. No one dared to bring them anywhere near me, which I was pretty sure had less to do with Ichigo Kurosaki, King of the Delinquents, and more to do with the fact the rumors were about _me_, Uryū Ishida, Class President and Class Idol.

Still, not even the rapid rabid rumor mill could eclipse my pleasure at being called his friend. It felt warm and comfortable, like a caretaker's embrace, like a hearth fire, like a lover's touch. Sure, there was still a lingering tendril of something close to apprehension, something that didn't like naming my infatuation "friendship", but for the most part I could ignore it.

Lunch hour found me escaping my diligent fans for the quiet rooftop. Anticipation curled in my stomach as I mulled over the possibility that he might be waiting for me. However, I shoved it aside. Just because the rooftop haven always seemed brighter when he was there didn't mean that he always appreciated my intrusion on his few moments of peace.

Somehow, he always seemed so happy to see me, which was a _big_ thing for the man named Ichigo Kurosaki. He always liked to appear as though he only had three moods –those would be calm, angry, and pissed– when he was at school. I'd seen him in other places only briefly, yet he seemed to exhibit an entirely different set of traits for each environment.

At his part-time job –he worked at The Quincy's Bow, the archery range that was practically my second home –he was friendly, diligent, unendingly polite, but he didn't ever smile. Well, he smiled, but they were rarely anything more than a twisting of his lips to appear polite. At the hospital where my father worked –where _his_ father worked as well, as I had found out– he played the consummate flirt with all of the nurses, yet somehow he still managed to appear unbelievably innocent. He would gently tease and cajole, but that elusive smile failed to surface. At the candy shop he frequented –no, I promise I'm not stalking him: I just happen to frequent the same shop– he would act as the loving big brother to the two small children the owner had taken in. He'd tease their two part-times relentlessly. He also liked to antagonize the owner and steal his prized green-and-white striped hat, but he only presented the usual excuses for a smile –that patient, almost parental smile for Ururu and Jinta, and his signature smirk for Abarai, the woman he referred to only as 'Cat', and the owner who he called 'Hat-and-Clogs'.

It seemed odd to me that as far as I knew, I was the only one to see that gorgeous smile of his. It warmed me through and through that it was my privilege, yes. However, I couldn't smother the worry and sadness that it summoned, as well. Was there really so little for him to smile about in his life?

Shaking my head to clear the heavy thoughts out, I opened the roof access door, only to find that Ichigo wasn't there at all. With a weak, sad smile of my own, I walked to the railing and surveyed the school yard. I tried to keep myself from wondering if he was avoiding me, yet I didn't come anywhere near succeeding at it. I wouldn't blame him for avoiding me –not after the solid _stream_ of rumors that had appeared almost overnight. Yet, I also knew that he wasn't intimidated by rumors at all –only aggravated. Perhaps he'd seen through my mask and noticed that I wasn't just feeling friendly affection for him. That was enough to make any red-blooded straight man head for the hills, right? Still, I knew that Ichigo had friends who weren't stereotypical heterosexual. I doubted that my sexuality would keep him from seeking me out.

_Perhaps he simply had something to do? After all, it's not as though you have a standing lunch date,_ taunted the voice in my head.

I closed my eyes for a moment. If I really thought about it, it really was probably just that simple. I _had_ to stop jumping to the absolute worst conclusions over nothing!

I turned my attention back to the school yard. Not far from the building, there was a large gathering of students –well, upwards of thirty of them, all in a mass of charcoal uniforms and faces. It was a rather notable thing –usually, it was rare that a large enough portion of the girls were on good enough terms with each other to gather like that. They were also rather noisy and distracting in that right. But what stopped me dead was a very familiar voice.

"Sweet Shiva Almighty, _get off of me!_" a warm baritone growled out angrily. "I don't see why I have any need to explain any of my actions to the lot of you. If you want me to explain _that_, you may as well have me explains something a little more interesting and mysterious –like, is this my natural hair color?"

I could practically _feel_ the glare from narrowed whiskey-colored eyes.

When that full head of strawberry-blond hair appeared amid the mob of female students, I found myself suddenly entranced by the going-ons unfolding before me like some sort of scene from a lousy day-time soap opera.

_Sweet Mother of Shiva, he might just kill something. Or someone, depending on what gets in his way,_ I thought vaguely as I watched the group of girls shove him to the front. I really should have been quite alarmed by the thought, but I was just too enamored with that foul-mouthed delinquent who was so full of contradictions to notice anything but him, it seemed.

* * *

_I apologize for what seems like the random tearing-down of the fourth wall. Unfortunately, that wall was called writer's block, and I needed to get past it to get back to all of you lovely people! :P_

_To answer this question before anyone gets around to asking it, yes, there are two separate factions of fan-girls in the school: some are Uryū fan-girls, and some are Ichigo fan-girls. Luckily for the boys, there are a number of both sides that would love to see them together XD_

_Don't mind the swearing by Shiva thing... that happens 'cause it's me writing this and... well, I do it, not to disrespect anyone's culture..._

_Also, sorry this update is so short. The good news is, I've got a great start on the next chapter, so it should be up soon, and it's a really interesting one :P_

_In other news, I've written four sonnets in the pursuit of the perfect ones to include in this story... And I think all of them will show up in this story in some shape or form :))_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello, lovely doves :))_

_So, I apologized for how short my last update was... Though, I'm pretty sure my chapters for this story average around 1000 words. _

_Anyway, I thought I'd give you more, since I just finished the next part._

_Everyone ready to have a new character play an active role in things? :P _

_I warn you: ahead be rabid fan-girls, matties!_

_So, enjoy~_

* * *

_Ichigo:_

If I got out of this situation unscathed –or perhaps particularly if I _didn't_–I would _murder_ Chizuru, that red-haired bitch! She was _not_ ever going to be allowed near Tatsuki or Orihime again after _this_ kind of betrayal, and I should hope she would have known that before she handed me over to the enemy –best known as the Uryū Ishida Fan Club. Maybe I'd just let Tatsuki beat her up, like she'd been wanting to do since the very first time Chizuru hit on Orihime.

Gritting my teeth, I glared out at the crowd of milling, angry females. "Look, how long is this gonna take? There's someone waiting on me, and I would prefer to _not_ keep them waiting."

The last thing I wanted to deal with was an angry mob of women. Luckily for me, at least I had some experience with angry mobs. Angry mobs of _females_ were certainly new, though.

It seemed as one of them finally got the nerve to speak.

"How could you?!" one brunette girl snarled at me. "Our Prince should never hang out with such a barbarian as you!"

An inhuman snarl escaped me, and even the bravest of the girls shut their mouths.

"Your 'Prince'?" I asked accusingly. "Yeah, he happens to have a name. It's Uryū. And _Uryū_ is more than well-equipped to keep me away from him himself if he didn't think me _worthy_ of his presence. Yet if it is all as you say, how is it that _I_ am the company he seeks out?" I glared at each and every one of them in turn.

"You… you must be blackmailing him!" one accused.

I cocked a brow at that. "Honey, I have _classes_ with him. Believe you me, he's got more blackmail material on me than the other way around."

"What sort of temptress's spell have you woven to snag him in your web?" demanded another.

Full, amused laughter amused from the deepest parts of me. Didn't they realize that by calling it a 'temptress's spell', they implied femininity? Didn't they know that for temptation to function, the tempted had to be open to it? "Why? So you can go out and use the same 'spell', as you call it? Babe, if you want his attention, you are more than capable of trying to entice him yourself. The only 'spell' that I wove was being fairly interesting, of above average intelligence, and… oh yeah, _not_ treating him like some sort of idol carved of alabaster!"

"How vulgar!" the young woman sputtered at my accusation –and my advice. "Why should he go out with _King_? Why should he go anywhere near someone like _you_?" she spat.

I growled low in my throat. Of _course_ they were all so very focused on all of my bad qualities. Never mind that I was fiercely loyal, that I protected all of my friends to the highest extent of my ability, that I made Uryū smile and laugh. I was _King_, and therefore utterly unacceptable.

"Why don't you ask him?!" I bellowed. "You heartless _bitches_, shouldn't Uryū get a say in his own life?! If you _must_ know, we coincidentally stumbled upon each other. I would deny dating him, but hell, you will all repeat whatever the hell you want, anyway. He hangs out with 'someone like me' because I listen to him, I care about him, and I realize his is more than just some sort of title, role, idol, or prize. And, for the record, I have a name, too. However, if you can't bring yourselves to use the name of someone you all seem to prize, I can hardly expect you to realize that –let alone, _know_ it. Bottom line, I am Uryū's friend because it is _Uryū's_ choice."

They all stared at me with wide eyes.

My body trembled with barely-contained rage. "Don't you _get_ it? As much as you lot love to place him on a pedestal and give him titles and whisper his name reverently in hallways, Uryū Ishida is a living breathing _person_, not some statue or image or idol. And I'm sure he'd be much more interested in talking to the whole lot of you if you would simply _treat him that way_."

I moved to escape the distracted, no-longer-so-angry mob, a single slender female blocked my path. "King."

My lips twisted into a sneer. "There is someone waiting on me," I enunciated, as though she were hard of hearing. "Make it quick, or I swear to Shiva I will put my cigarette out in your eye!" Never mind that I would have to light one for that express purpose, or the fact that it was a waste of a cigarette, or that damn goat-faced father of mine got me hooked on expensive cigarettes.

She arched an eloquent brown at me. "Well, I _was_ going to say that you were good for my dear little bookworm, but after language like that, I'm not so sure."

I eyed her for a moment. Despite her short stature, she was wearing a sundress and sandals, _not_ the familiar charcoal uniform –a fact that I normally would have registered immediately, but for the fact I was so damned _pissed off_. There was something really familiar about her, but I shoved that thought aside in honor of apologizing for my _faux pas_. "My apologies, ma'am. I got held up by a gaggle of rabid fan-girls, and I was still a bit angry, or I would have realized you weren't one of them."

She scanned my face slowly, her expression betraying her astonishment. "That… that was down-right _creepy_, boy."

"Sorry. Gotta switch the masks," I remarked dryly. What I referred to as masks, most people might call situational etiquette. I thought of them as masks because that was what they really were: masks I put on to hide my emotions to show the world exactly what it wanted to see.

Shifting nervously, she glanced around before looking back at my face. "Ichigo, right? You _are_ Ichigo, right? That guy that Uryū keeps talking about?"

I smiled softly. Obviously, she was a friend of his since she used his first name. Besides, it genuinely _pleased_ me to hear that Uryū had been talking about me to one of his friends. "Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?"

"Well, first off, stop calling me 'ma'am'," she quipped. "I actually want to you remain friends with him, unlike those… rabid fan-girls, as you called them. Uryū needs someone who sees him for _who_ he is instead of _what_ he is or what he can become. I kinda get the notion you might understand that."

I cracked a wry grin. "You might say that," I returned noncommittally. 'King' was my title and pedestal, and more often than not, my burden. I looked at her for a moment longer, still struck by how _familiar_ she was. "You look really, _really_ familiar. Have we met before?"

She extended her hand. "I'm Rukia Kuchiki. I met you when you used to date one of my friends."

Despite the dark twinkle in her eyes, I took her hand and gave it a firm shake –mostly because I remembered where I'd met her before. She was one of Renji's friends. "Ah, well, please don't say that one too loud. He'll probably run me through with that blade he so adores if that gets out."

"Duly noted. Sorry to come find you at school, but I really didn't know where else to find you." She smiled tentatively.

"I work at the Quincy's Bow most days after school if you need to find me again. Sorry for the misunderstanding." I gave her a snappy salute. "Gotta run."

She inclined her head. "I understand. Enjoy your lunch."

I laughed. "Or at least my cigarette? Catch you later, Rukia Kuchiki."

And with that, I took off, wondering if my… fascinating friend was waiting on me in the place that had become our usual sanctuary.

Right now, I needed the mellow, happy peace his presence usually afforded me.

* * *

_Okay, so! Adorableness in the form of one interfering Rukia Kuchiki. Gotta love her, haha._

_Plus, two very important shout-outs!  
Number One: one very nifty ChocolateSins (and I _am_ to blame for the Sin influence in her name :P), because I used the term "rabid fan-girls". She will understand like the wonderful puppy she is :))  
Number Two: my beloved older sister, who will remain nameless, but continues to threaten to put her cigarettes out in my eye when I annoy her... Ah, but she never means it really :P_

_So! Let me know if you liked seeing Ichigo get his hackles up 'cause of Uryū (again :P), if you enjoyed that interfering Kuchiki girl, if you liked the attack of the rabid fan-girls, or maybe even Ichigo's "masks"... Please just review :))_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	7. Chapter 7

_I confess: it's been quite a while since there has been an update on this piece. The reason? I couldn't decide how much of the conversation Uryu overheard -I just had to be choosey..._

_Okay, so obviously, I wanted to prove something with this chapter..._  
_Unfortunately, the only thing I proved is that I hate myself and love you all too damn much..._  
_3000 words. LOVE ME._

_Anyway! I hope this chapter is worth the wait! I'll try to get into the main swing of the plot quickly, okay?_

_I bet the identity of the Biology teacher will be a surprise 3 I love playing with that stuff~_

* * *

_Uryū:_

I watched group the girls disband, though I felt as though my eyes truly saw nothing. Even I knew that I was biding my time, staring off into the distance in hopes that a particular guy with strawberry-blond hair and whiskey colored eyes would come and join me up on the rooftop.

Merciful _Shiva_, I had not expected something like that to happen –not to him. I had no idea how the girls had managed to corner him, yet I would willingly confess that I expected a fight to spring out of the situation. He was cagey even with his friends. How much more would he hide in front of a group of strangers? I had never expected him to get angry and yell at the girls for close to ten solid minutes, and I had been surprised at his reaction to whatever accusations they had thrown at him.

Then again, I supposed that Ichigo might have an intimate understanding of my situation. He, too, had people that he shouldn't hang out with if he wished to maintain his title, his image. He, too, was the type to exclude himself from the student body because they wouldn't understand.

Still, hearing his impassioned voice swell over the crowd of girls had been very surprising. I was sure I only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but the parts I had heard only seemed to make me happier to be acquainted with him

_'You heartless _bitches_, shouldn't Uryū get a say in his own life?!'_

No one that I had ever met before had defended my right to make my own decisions in my own life. Most of them expected me to become a doctor because my father was a doctor. Most of them expected me to do well in school because I should want to do well later on in life. No one had ever stopped to think, 'Hey, what sort of career do you think Uryū would choose? Do you think it will make him happy?'

Almost everyone I had ever met –and there were very few exceptions– had looked at me and saw only what I was or what I could become. For the first time in my life, I felt as though someone was encouraging others to look at _who_ I was, instead. I had to wonder: had Ichigo ever had someone in his life who tried to make others see him for who he was instead of what he was?

_'He hangs out with 'someone like me' because I listen to him, I care about him, and I realize his is more than just some sort of title, role, idol, or prize'_

It was quite strange to me that he already could see through me so well. Then again, he also gave me credit for seeing through _him_, as though he knew that he always seemed to be at his most readable when he was with me. Still, it felt wonderful to hear aloud that he cared about me, that he knew that I was more than just the class president, the class idol, valedictorian, or my father's son. It made me happier still that it was _him_ who managed to see past all of the roles and titles to the real person inside. He saw _me_, not Class President Ishida, not Class Idol, not Ishida-sensei's son, not a motherless child, not the top ranked student –_me_.

_'I am Uryū's friend because it is _Uryū's_ choice.''_

It was the first time anyone had ever taken so much pride in being chosen by me. Most people just brushed it off, like it was an arbitrary or plebian decision. Yet Ichigo was incredibly pleased to have been chosen by one such as I.

It wasn't because I was intelligent –his intelligence easily rivaled my own. I doubted it had anything to do with my appearance. In my humble opinion, his appearance was much more striking than my own. We were classmates, but that was a trivial arrangement managed by school personnel and emotionless computer software. It wasn't because I frequented the business that employed him, and several other businesses that had their connections with him. In fact, he had little reason to register such a fact.

I had no idea why. Considering the many times I had been used and manipulated in my life time, that fact should have worried me. But for some reason –_like the fact I was utterly infatuated with him_– it somehow made me like and appreciate it all the more.

_Oh, you are _so_ in too deep._

When I heard hurried footsteps tromping up the stairs, my heart thundered to echo their tone.

When the door opened tentatively to reveal that familiar face, his hair mused from running his hands through it, my heart worked its way up into my throat.

When his eyes found me and that sweet crooked smile worked its way across his lips, I had to smile in reply.

When he took a single step toward me, I found my feet in motion, hurling me toward him.

My arms tightly wrapped around him of their own accord. At first he seemed very startled, then calm and resigned. It surprised me a bit when his arms wrapped around me as well, his elbows bent at my sides and his hands resting on my spine. Silence reigned, but the touch was more than enough. It was warm, soothing, comfortable. It was a physical reminder that I wasn't alone.

"Hey, Uryū," he greeted softly, his breath brushing against my ear.

It was now that I wanted to blush. I wondered if I was, but it wasn't like he could tell anyway. "Hello, Ichigo."

"Just needed a hug?"

I nodded slowly, wondering how to tell him that I'd heard part of what he'd said to those girls without sounding like a creepy stalker. "What held you up?" I inquired.

"Rabid fan-girls. Yours, I believe." He laughed softly. "I'm afraid you might get stuck dealing with mine, as well."

"I… I heard part of what you said to them."

"Did you?" He made no move to end the embrace at all: no protests that hugs weren't manly, no complaints that if someone saw they might think us a couple, no backward steps. Those strong arms stayed wrapped around me loosely but acceptingly.

"I did. When you raise your voice, it really carries…" I sighed softly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with them, though."

"I'm not. Someone needed to set them straight about a few things, anyway." He chuckled softly.

A long pause followed as I tried to find the words I wanted to say to him. I swallowed hard. "Hey, Ichigo? No matter what anyone else says, I'm proud to call you friend and I am proud to be a person you call friend."

The arms around me tightened. "Me, too, Uryū. Me, too."

I hid my face against his shoulder and blushed, way too pleased to have him agree with me.

* * *

_Ichigo:_

Color me strange, but if dealing with those obnoxious fan-girls brought me one of these hugs, I was willing to deal with them every day.

He was still wrapped quite tightly around me, but I didn't mind it. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. The particular person that I'd been attracted to for some time now had wrapped himself around me and he wasn't crying or doing anything _else_ that I was utterly horrible at dealing with. What wasn't to be enjoyed in that scenario?

As I held on to him, I tried to work out which parts he had overheard. I couldn't recall when, exactly, I'd raised my voice against the girls, so there was quite a bounty of statements to choose from. Still, this was an incredibly favorable reaction, and I couldn't come up with any statement that had come out of my mouth that should have produced something like this.

My thoughts skittered back around toward my conversation with Rukia. Finding out that Uryū had been talking about me –obviously in a favorable way, since she wished our association to continue– had warmed some lonely and forgotten corners of my heart. I wondered if it was a sign of deeper interest from him, but I quickly shoved the notion aside.

_What we have now is more than enough. Be happy with that and stop wishing for more, or you will lose what you have._

I wouldn't stand aside and let myself lose out on our friendship, even if I didn't get a chance to hold him in the way that I longed to. Releasing a soft sigh, I inhaled the scent of his shampoo and fought back my desire to nuzzle against his sweet-scented hair.

_Down boy,_ I told myself wryly.

Finally, I began to withdraw from the embrace. Seriously, we'd spent a solid five minutes hugging each other. If his scent clung to my clothes, I'd be fighting a losing battle against a hard-on for the rest of the day and I really didn't want to have to explain _that_ to Keigo.

He seemed a little reluctant to let go, too, but I gave him my softest smile as I worked myself free. Casually, I ruffled his hair and mused the silky stands. "How's your day been so far?" I inquired politely.

He shrugged. Surprisingly enough, he didn't seem that worried about his always-perfect hair. "Well enough, I suppose. Aside from the rumors, I guess. No one seems to dare bring a single one to me, though."

_That's because they all think you're made out of porcelain._ "I wish they had such issues with me. I've been confronted with the most vulgar of the rumors."

"Have you now." One perfect brow arched. "Care to share? I'm always amused by whatever the rumor mill manages to churn out."

_Here's hoping I don't blush._ "The school favorite is that I'm blackmailing you for sex. I know: the blackmail material piles up better the other way around. Some of them say that you seduced me, others that I seduced you. Yet another group seems to think we've had some sort of illicit relationship going on for years now. My _personal_ favorite of the lot was the one that involved sex on Miss Souma's desk." I laughed a little. "One good thing I can say about all of our classmates: they all have terrific imaginations. Other than that, I'm really worried about the way information travels in this school."

He blushed enough for the both of us. Ah, I _knew_ that my blatant wording wasn't the best idea. Still, it surprised me when he asked, "What was so amusing about _that_ rumor?"

"The rumor said we'd gone at it on that desk during AP English, in front of God and everybody." I shook my head. "I have no idea where they get these things! Honestly, the few times I've dated, I've kept it really quiet, so why would I go from 'private person' to 'exhibitionist'?"

Uryū shook his head. "They entertain themselves at our expense. I haven't even _dated._ How am I to go from that to 'exhibitionist'?"

_Oh, let me teach you,_ the darker voice in my head purred out.

I worked hard on burying it.

"Like I said, I'm really worried about the way information travels in this school." I smiled wryly at him and reach for the messenger bag slung over my shoulder. After a few minutes of awkward maneuvering, I came up with a slim volume –hard-back, well-loved, notes in the margins– and handed it to him. "I promised to lone you this. Are you still interested in it, or are the rumors too intimidating?"

He accepted the volume with a small smile. "The rumors don't bother me all that much –no one but you really has the courage to tell them to me, anyway, which is a shame because they are really amusing. Besides, this is only between us, on a personal level that they shouldn't even catch wind of."

I ruffled his hair again. "Take good care of it, yeah?"

When he nodded, I smiled.

I glanced down at my watch. I still had enough time to catch a smoke and talk to Uryū some more before I had to get to class.

I wandered away to light my cigarette so the smoke wouldn't bother him. As I sat down and lit up, my thoughts drifted a bit.

Absently, I wondered if he'd like the two sonnets I'd penning on some of the blank pages in the back. He'd been right: once I'd chosen something I was very passionate about –probably more like "obsessed with" –the words had flowed out easily, and they'd even fit the pattern well! I'd written a third one, as well –the one I would be turning in later this week.

They were all about him, though, and I was somewhere between frightened and exited to have him reading two of my poems. I supposed I was frightened because he might realize that they were about him. Then again, I was also frightened that he might not. I wasn't sure which reaction to hope for. Still, I was excited that my poems would actually be read and pondered by their intended audience, and that excitement seemed to override the doubt and the fear.

I supposed I had faith that things would all turn out for the best.

* * *

_Uryū:_

Chemistry class had been incredibly boring.

Then again, I wasn't paying much attention, for once in my life. Hell, I wasn't even sure what we had covered in class: I'd only taken the time to scribble down the assignment before I'd hurried from the classroom.

My mind was still dwelling on what had happened at lunch.

I never expected him to have such a favorable reaction to my embrace. He'd barely hesitated before sliding his arms around me and had never once complained that I was too close or too clingy. His voice had been so warm and gentle in my ear. I shivered just remembering the way his breath had felt as it brushed against my ear and fanned out against my neck. His arms had felt so strong and so warm. That impressive body, with mine wrapped so tightly around it… it seemed like something out of a daydream…

Shaking my head, I tried to contain my rueful laughter. Truly, it was a wonder he'd reacted so well to such an embrace –especially because I had most certainly been behaving like a love-sick fool.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, I tried to focus so I could prepare the correct notebooks for my AP Biology II course. I really hadn't wanted to take it, but eventually, I'd given into the pressure when I'd needed another class to fill out my schedule. Actually, what I had wanted was a study hall, but unfortunately for me, they had all been full for that hour.

The man who taught the Anatomy and Physiology class was… well, he was creepy. I swear to Shiva, they made 'creepy' a prerequisite when hiring the staff in the science department. That's not to say that Doctor Kurotsuchi –our over-qualified chemistry instructor– and Doctor Granz –our over-qualified biology instructor– were creepy in the same manner. Kurotsuchi was more likely to kidnap you and perform illegal experiments on you. Granz was more likely to abduct you, keep you in his basement, and sexually torture you until you either got used to it or died. Or maybe that was just how they stuck me.

I really didn't want to go to biology. That man was more than just a little worrisome, and had been observed sexually harassing female _and_ male students. But I was Uryū Ishida, Class President, so no matter how much I wanted out of this class, cutting it in the bathroom wasn't an option. I had to attend –to "set a good example for the other students".

It was hard to hide my grimace, but I managed somehow. Taking a deep breath to steel myself against the inevitable, I walked into the classroom and found my seat. Orihime, the girl who sat beside me, gave me a soft smile and a gentle half-wave. When I returned her smile, happiness danced in her big brown eyes.

I liked Orihime. She was one of the few people at this school who treated me like a normal human being. She always had one of those gentle, shy smiles for me. it was those smiles that I found to be most appealing about her. When we had partner work in class, she not only partnered with me, she willingly sought me out –and _not_ because I had a great memory for various body parts and bones.

The only problem? Orihime was a part of Ichigo's normal group of friends. That didn't make her a delinquent, per say, but my… obsessive entourage would not take well to me hanging out with her outside of class. And by "would not take well", I mean "would make her life a living hell". So really, I stayed away for her protection, though knowing that I had to sacrifice a good friendship with a sweet, remarkable girl had really made me angry.

At the familiar shrill _screech _of Granz dragging his long fingernails down the chalkboard, everyone cringed and faced forward. Doctor Szayelaporro Granz was perched on his desk, his chin-length pink hair perfectly straight and perfectly styled. The lenses of his glasses were spotless and smear free and his eerie golden amber eyes gleamed behind them with an almost lecherous light.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let's talk about sex," he began.

I choked on the tonsils my own father had removed when I was twelve. However, I was far from alone in my reaction: the topic _de jour_ had left most of my classmates faint, pale, gaping, and/or completely frazzled.

Granz just grinned with genuine amusement. "Today, we shall focus on the female participant and participation. Tomorrow, we'll get to the male. Anyway! For those of you who are more visual learners, I have some short clips queued up for your viewing pleasure."

I have to admit, I really wasn't all that surprised in the least when those 'clips' turned out to be porn. I was just surprised that he'd managed to bring them in and use them without the administration becoming aware.

Averting my gaze, I pondered the pros and cons of informing them about his practices. After all, there _had_ to be someone better suited to teaching biology to a bunch of teenagers _somewhere_ in Katakura Town. But I figured that if they hadn't done anything about the verbally abusive "Mad Scientist" Kurotsuchi, it was highly unlikely that they would do anything about the perverted and lecherous biology teacher.

For once, I was glad that my teacher had succeeded in keeping the attention of everyone in the classroom –himself included. Now, granted, some of them were staring at the screen with faces full of horror, but that was neither here nor there. As I ignored the overly loud, fake sex noises, my thoughts drifted to the book that Ichigo was loaning to me. Carefully, I pulled it out and flipped through the pages. A flicker of rough handwriting caught my attention, so I turned to the page quickly. To my surprise, I discovered a sonnet he'd written in the back of the book himself. I couldn't help myself: I had to read it.

_"For years, I thought that others spoke of things  
in manner, fashion, more eloquent than  
I; I would embrace the joy each word brings,  
writing myself off as simply a fan.  
Yet now I bring to question all the years  
that I hid my desire to speak and share,  
and every word that fell upon deaf ears.  
It seems that all I needed was to __care__.  
When I first saw you, new breath filled my lungs;  
I knew that I'd found the greatest of the muse:  
Each day beckoned new songs that must be sung,  
That I should not the gift I had misuse.  
**My pen shall n'er cease scratching paper  
**'til I be old and my muse but vapor."_

The bottom of the page bore his signature and a date –by my calculations, not more than a week ago. I stared at the words for a moment. The poem itself was very straight-forward –much like he was.

I couldn't help but wonder who was this muse he'd written this poem for.

And I could help but wish that it was me.

* * *

_Ugh. I just died. Give me a moment to recover._

_Ahem. Alright. I can go on..._

_So, that first part? Hard for me. I spent close to 1000 words dwelling on three previously written statements ._

_The second section was pretty fun -I wanted the hug to be all super cute. And I wanted Uryū to receive the book of poetry_ and_ see at least one of the sonnets Ichigo "wrote" _^^

_The poem in the last section is mine, SinsofMidnight. It's called "Muse", and it was among the set I wrote for this... I believe I wrote about 6 sonnets for this story, all of them Shakespearean sonnets.  
Aside from that, I did dwell a lot on the biology teacher and the class. That's because the next day will be my main event. Oh, Shiva, it's finally neigh! lol  
Also, anyone surprised that it was Szayelaporro Granz? He fit the mold I needed... and he probably rivals Mayuri Kurotsuchi for the "Mad Scientist of the Bleach Universe" award. _

_Please let me know how you liked this chapter. I really worked hard to get this one to you, and my fingers may or may not fall off now. Let me know what you found cute, funny, hysterical, bizarre... anything, really. Just respond, please._

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


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